


Drink up, darling

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Chase needs a hug 2K18, Gen, Kids mentioned, Not a happy piece, Sadness, Short, Stacy referenced, Thinking, mourning in a way but not over the dead, so please be careful in case this is triggering, solemn, somber, song inspirations are Behind The Bars and sorta Broadripple Is Burning, this is Chase he's depressed, thoughts, warnings for depression, warnings for implied alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 00:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15107795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: It's a warm summer evening. So he stares at the photo.And he drinks.





	Drink up, darling

**Author's Note:**

> Chase is tied with Anti as my favourite who (JJ is a very close second) and I've been wanting to write him for awhile.
> 
> Unfortunately, the only dang thing sticking in my mind is the song Behind The Bars by Elliot Smith (and Broadripple Is Burning by Margot And The Nuclear So And So's keeps popping up faintly too), so I only have sad stuff for Chase today.

   The room is dark; blinds tilted low as fast-fading, dim golden light filters through, dust motes catching faint glimmers.   

    There's no light fixtures on, though the natural light is enough to see with; a figure on the end of a bed (the sheets are wrinkled and haven't been washed in nearly two months) sitting parallel with the window, and gazing down. He rubs his thumb along the edge of a picture frame, back and forth, back and forth, eyes burning numb from crying themselves dry.

   Next to his foot on the floor is a glass bottle, three-quarters empty. The liquid glows warm amber from the waning sunlight.

   He breathes in deeply - a shuttering, wet breath. Tries to sit up a little. But the effort to just _breathe_ leaves him exhausted, and he slumps once more, the photo of a boy and girl - _his_ boy and girl - smiling with him, back at him, in a gone summer day nearly two years before hand.

   He misses them.

   Dear lord, he misses them.

   If they could see him now, though, what would they think? Would they be angry? Disappointed? Ashamed? Would they think that what Stacy said had been true all along?

    Because it had been. It was. He was a good-for-nothing, self-absorbed, lazy failure. No matter how hard he tries, he'll never be good enough. Will never be able to do anything right.

   And he tries - he really does. But it always ends in disaster. It's always his fault.

   "I'm sorry," he whispers earnestly. To his kids. To his Ex. To his family, and friends. To his best friend.

   Only silence answers back.

    His eyes burn and he blinks rapidly, suddenly feeling the urge to cry again. But hadn't he cried enough?

   He was so tired of crying. Of hurting. Of the guilt wrapping its hands around his neck; of the fear of not being able to do anything right.

   He holds the frame in one hand, the other sliding along the edge of the bed to wrap around the bottle's neck. He pulls it up, eyes not leaving the photo - there's no need to uncork it since he had left it off.

    "It just hurts so much," he whispered.

    _I want it to stop_ , he thinks.

    So Chase brings the bottle to his lips, and drinks.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry ;--;.
> 
> (I'm not implying any specific Stacy background - I'm sure she said a lot of mean things, but we don't know to what extent. It's possible she was abusive or manipulative, but it's also possible that Chase's depression latched on to and amplified things she said. So I'll leave it mostly ambiguous.)


End file.
